Because
by Useless-Materia
Summary: Because, all these things being true, he couldn't help but fall for her. Because, all these things being true, she couldn't help but love him back. A love story between Female Mage Caron & Anders from Dragon Age: Awakening. Rating may go up.
1. Because Fealty is a Virtue

A/N: I know what I really should be posting before this new story is the final chapter of my FIRST story that has been dormant for so long! Truth be told, while it has been dormant, I have not. I am so close to finishing it it's unreal! I'm even thinking of a sequel of sorts!

Anyway, I've also decided to post some of my Dragon Age stories I've written. When DA2 came out and completely changed Anders, it really made me sad for a while – he went from being so handsome and funny and cocksure to being this…. Bleh. And I hate his new look too. ANYWAY, I've finally gotten over that, and here are bits and pieces of a story I wrote about Anders and the DA Awakening Orlesian Warden you can create if you chose not to upload your DA:O character. I thought it would be fun to play an Orlesian mage! I was so right! So this is Leonie Caron (pronounce Leo-NEE). She has a strong Orlesian (French) accent, wears her hair in a bun, has thick nude-colored lips and grey eyes, and is a very powerful Battle Mage with an emphasis on elementals. She is soft-spoken but commanding, friendly and light-hearted. Tends to keep things to herself and too fixated on the idea of a perfect outward persona that she thinks is expected of her. You may like it, you may not. But here it is nonetheless.

Chapter 1

Because Fealty is a Virtue

_On Personal Quests_

Anders shut the door to his room and heaved an uncharacteristically heavy sigh. Today had been trying. And he had much to think about.

The Commander had been… well, he always knew she was a generous person, but she had been… so _very_ good to him today.

He had made contact with Namaya in Amaranthine and found out about the supposed location of his phylactery. The Commander was a mage too, but he had almost hesitated in asking her this favor of tracking it down with him. But she had been right there, and it was hard to pretend Namaya's information had been about nothing. And as he trusted her, he told her.

More than anything he'd wanted it destroyed and in no circumstance did he think it the wrong thing to do – he deserved his freedom. But he had never intended to get her caught up in the Chantry's wrath. She had much more important things to do than fight his battles for him, but that's precisely what she'd done. He remembered sneaking into that warehouse, her, Oghren, and Nathaniel in tow. He was nearly giddy with excitement – he was about to be free.

But it had been a trap after all. He remembered the shock that flooded his system at the sound of that shrew, Rylock.

"And here I almost believed the infamous Anders wouldn't take the bait."

His reply barely hid the disappointment that rang through his bones: "Ah. Yes, I suppose I should have known it would be you."

She snarled and turned her attention to his fearless leader. "You made a poor choice with this one, Commander. Anders will never submit, not to us and not to you."

Her calm, steady Orlesian voice replied less than a fraction of a second later: "'e has made a fine Grey Warden so far." His gaze snapped to her face at this compliment, but Rylock left little room for pondering.

"'So far,' yes. I'll make sure that this _murderer_ is never a bother to anyone again." He immediately leapt to his own defense.

"What? No, you can't arrest me! King Alistair allowed my conscription!"

Rylock's face and tone were unrelenting. "The Chantry's authority supersedes the crown in this matter. You cannot hide within the Grey Warden's ranks."

His hopes sunk with each word she spat at him until -

"No. 'e stays vith us." Again his eyes were on his Commander. Her words were solid steel and her gaze burned with conviction. She… the things she was risking for him!

As Rylock's final words rang out, both sides prepared for battle: "I do not know how you inspire such loyalty, Anders, but it will avail you naught. Now you come with us."

Amidst the fighting, Anders himself had wondered about such loyalty.

In the here and now, he scratched his head. Had that been it, it would have been one thing, but once the battle was over, he'd turned to the Arlessa and said, earnestly, "Thank you. You stood by me and I appreciate that."

And she nearly stopped his heart with a soft smile and the simple words, "You are a friend. Friends stick up for each other."

As if that's all there was to it. As if taking on the Templars, especially as a mage herself, and the Commander of the Grey (with much bigger duties than this) was no big deal. So many depended upon her and she had been willing to incur the wrath of the Templars _for_ _him_.

Sitting here on his bed he suddenly recalled her slight blush the day before when he'd accused her of jealousy towards Namaya. It had struck him as so very pretty, and although it was nothing he'd seen from her before that point, it had suited her.

There were many thoughts swimming around in his head, but the one that felt _right -_ on the simplest of levels - was this: He ought to make it a point to try and make her blush more in the future. He hadn't known he'd be able to.

Anders knew he was a charmer. He was well-aware that he was a good-looking man and a wizard with words, when it came to women in particular. But the Commander seemed so above that sort of thing. Surely no amount silver-tongued speech could ever undo such a bright, commanding woman.

And yet she laughed quietly at his jokes and grinned at his banter with their fellow companions. And apparently she blushed too. She was just… strong and assured and… warm. And so very beautiful. It would seem she genuinely liked him, not just the front he gave the world.

All of these things had been true before today, but it was as if all of this information, all of these observations were suspended, like puppets on strings, just above his consciousness. And today, all those strings snapped at her selflessness, leaving these thoughts to fall about him.

Perhaps he could… turn up the charm at least a little. Up until now, it had been done on instinct: because she was beautiful and she was there. But now… _now_…

Suddenly he got the strongest urge to talk to her, to see her smile again, maybe make her laugh. If he was lucky, he might even elicit another blush.

So he strode out of his quarters and into the throne room. She wasn't there. But Oghren was. For a second he thought of just heading back to his quarters.

But no. The desire to see her had driven him from there and he would find her now.

He strode over to the dwarf and without any form of greeting, started right in.

"Have you seen the Commander?"

"I sure have. She's 'bout five foot five, shapely arse, easy on the eyes."

Anders rolled his eyes as Oghren burst out into loud guffaws at his own joke. "Very clever. Bravo, dwarf."

"You know, she's a looker, f'r a human. Not'smuch meat on those bonesas old Oghren would like, but a fine Orlesian feast f'r the eyes jus th'same…" He punctuated his sentence with a deep belch.

"You drunk fool, you are completely useless."

"At least I'm not a prissy mage 'n a dress."

Anders was about to get into another round of verbal sparring with the drunken dwarf but just then the giant doors of the keep swung open and the Commander stepped in. Removing her cowl she brushed a strand of auburn hair back into her neat bun and exhaled as the doors slammed behind her in a imposing way. The booming echo somehow added the air of that hidden strength she had to the image before him. Or maybe he was going soft in the head.

Either way, Anders wasted no time. Abandoning Oghren to his drunken mutterings, he met the Commander in the middle of the floor. She turned her gaze up at him, pure cordiality written in the openness of her features.

"'ow are you feeling, Anders?" Even after a day like today she was still the epitome of calm and collected.

He sighed heavily for show and shook his head. She was shorter than him by a good six inches, but she commanded such a tall presence that it didn't feel as though he was looking _down_.

"All things considered, Commander, I'm doing fine. Today was hardly what I'd hoped for, but I'm still here, so that's something."

"Yes, zat is always something." She smiled that closed-lip smile that reminded him of a mother, glad that her children are all fed and rested. Not that it was condescending, and not that he was a child, just that she seemed so much more in-control and mature than any others at the Keep. Everything about her made him feel comfortable, at ease. A giant ball of contentment started to grow in his stomach, and he grinned at her.

"May I point out that you're all right."

Her eyes widened in curiosity at this statement he'd just blurted out. "I am all right?" My, but her eyelashes were thick and long…

Anders couldn't help himself: "And remarkably lovely, if I'm allowed to say." She lowered her chin and bit her bottom lip, but it didn't hide her growing smile.

"Yes, you are allowed both observations."

His smile grew in response to this. "That's… good to know, my lady." But he was serious, so he decided to reel it in a bit. Smile fading only slightly, he continued.

"Really, when the templars came for me, you could have decided I wasn't worth the trouble. But I apparently _am_ worth the trouble."

Her own look became gentle and she rubbed her full lips together as he spoke. It was something she did sometimes when they were talking, when she was in a good mood. He didn't think she knew how enticing it looked. He hadn't realized he'd noticed it before.

"Anyway, considering I'm usually a LOT of trouble, I should be grateful."

"Vell I am glad to 'ave you around." Her reply was low and soft; he could practically feel the warmth in her voice, and it charmed him.

"And I'm glad to _be_ around." He might as well be honest with her too.

"When you recruited me, I thought I was jumping from the frying pan into the fire. But being a Warden is almost tolerable. It's a pleasant stroll through the park – with darkspawn!"

She laughed at that, replying sarcastically, "So glad I could make it 'appen for you."

"You're a giver. I'm very grateful." Joking with her was so easy. Not like their other companions, who were usually too serious or too hostile.

"I thought it was worth mentioning." He reached out and took her hand in his own.

"Thank you, Commander. For everything."

She smiled up at him so warmly and said, "My pleasure, Anders."

And then, because he was feeling spirited, he brought her hand up to his lips, but instead of kissing it outright, he merely brushed his lips against her knuckles. In no way an improper motion, but Anders knew how one could make any mundane act more sensual. The blush that spread so very faintly across her cheekbones was the best reward he could have hoped for.


	2. Because Import Warrants Gratitude

_A/N: Yes, I have gotten only 1 review for this story, and semi-expect that. I never thought this would get much traffic, but it seemed a waste, just sitting in my writing folder. For those that have favorited it, I really, really appreciate it. If anyone does want to review, as always, I'd truly appreciate it._

_Two little (hopefully) useful things about my use of dialogue:_

_1. I try to use a lot of in-game dialogue in the story to make it tie in well and perhaps see more likely. You may recognize the conversations in the last chapter as coming from the game, specifically the one with Rylock, which was to the letter, and then the following, where Anders confronts the Warden Commander, which is about 80% verbatim, with a few small flirty lines added in._

_2. Since the Commander is Orlesian in this story, in my mind, she thus speaks Fereldan (English) as a second language. To make that a little more clear, I don't have her use contractions, since those are more familiar to long-term/natural speakers of a language. I'm also experimenting with writing out how she would actually say these words in her Orlesian accent, so, fore examples, 'is' becomes 'eez,' 'th' is either 's' or 'z' depending on context, and 'h' disappears when beginning a word. I know that Leliana does not speak quite in this way, but Leonie is not as fluent in Ferelden as Leliana is, and Leonie's accent is heavier. This spelling for pronunciation's sake and separating contractions will be the only changes from here on out that I'll make to direct in-game lines of dialogue. Which brings me to my next point._

_In this chapter, I've tried to include things the NPCs actually say, such as Nathaniel's little rogue responses to traps and locked chests. Also, the conversation he has in the Keep with the Commander is accurate. I hope it makes a difference – if not, well, it pleases me. :)_

_Anyway, please enjoy chapter 2._

* * *

><p>Because Import Warrants Gratitude:<p>

_On Being Useful_

_. . . ._

It had been a distressing week that followed his realizations; Anders was a little annoyed that the Commander never seems to show preferential treatment. All of her recruits loved her.

Oh, and as it turns out, she gave gifts to _everyone, _by the way. Just little things she found that she thought they'd like. She'd done so for him too in the past – a gold earring, a book on phylacteries, a really warm wool scarf that kept out the chill on those freezing mornings in the Keep, and most wonderfully of all, she'd given him a cat, to replace the mouser he'd spoken of while he was locked in a tower.

And yet, until she'd rescued him from Rylock, he hadn't… well, certainly, he'd found her pretty, beautiful in fact. And her generosity made him more content in the life of a warden than he thought he could be. But ever since that day, and that conversation, he couldn't stop thinking about her.

The problem was, he wasn't alone in his affections. And she hadn't been alone in her generosity. She gave all of them little gifts. Here he'd come to think Ser Pouce-A-Lot was a special thing, but (among other things) she'd given Nathaniel the bow of his ancestors, and his reverence when he'd mentioned it to Anders in the field had added to the shock.

Of course, all of that would have been no big deal a week prior. A week prior to realizing he sorta maybe kinda definitely liked her, that is.

And then, to top it all off, he'd walked into the foyer of the Keep and seen the Arlessa talking with Nathaniel in the corner. Whatever they were talking about, Nathaniel looked incredibly earnest. Anders' hackles immediately went up. What, had she found _another _Howe bow? Geeze…

Not that Anders was a snoop, but he couldn't _help _overhear as Nathaniel said, "I owe you an apology."

Oh, joy. Ser Wounded Puppy was doling out his sob story, huh? Didn't he want to kill them at first? Had everyone forgotten that already? Anders suddenly hadn't. Though it was easy to see how (and why) Nathaniel's opinion of the Commander had also changed over the months they'd spent here.

But still, the real annoyance didn't come until Anders overheard him say, "I was an idiot, and like a child, I blamed you and the Wardens." _Idiot's about right_, Anders thought. But the Howe wasn't through: "And here you've even proven to be a friend, of sorts. Or… am I reading that wrong too?"

The look on his face as he gazed down at their Commander made Anders wants to set him on fire. Even more so when, in her kind voice, she replied earnestly, "No, I would like to be friends," and it sounded a lot like the same conversation he'd had with her: _You're a friend. Friends stick up for each other._

Well isn't that lovely? Everybody wants to be her… _friend_.

* * *

><p>Anders' mood didn't dissipate, and he sulked the whole way back to the Wending Woods. They were all in a bad mood though – it had been raining nonstop for three days now and the trip was taking forever. Well, at least, it felt like it had been forever.<p>

The Commander had asked Nathaniel and Anders to scale the cliff and search for any place that looked like they might be a good shelter for the night. Nathaniel had been insistent on doing it alone, claiming to be the "_far_ superior scout," but the Commander had wanted them in groups of no-less-than two for safety reasons and had sent Anders with him. So they trudged up the hill, through the very thick underbrush that seemed to be trying to suffocating them, shielding their faces from the onslaught of branches and rain with their forearms.

"Ooh look at me, I'm Nathaniel, I have daddy issues and a tragic past! Lookout my lady! I will save you! Let me scout out the perfect location to kiss your ass!" Anders had spat it out before he could stop himself.

"Do you know how petty you sound?" Nathaniel's tone seemed even, but Anders was pretty sure there was a deep root of annoyance. Good. Nothing helped a bad mood like spreading it around.

"I don't sound nearly as petty as you sound overeager. All. The. Time." He didn't bother clarifying. Nathaniel knew what he was talking about. The man was an aggravating rival - in part because he wasn't stupid.

"What does it matter to you if I'm eager? It only matters to the Commander. And we get along very well. Partially because I am a very helpful companion and largely because we have so much in common. That must be so troubling for you, Anders." The rogue slashed through the brush with his dagger, not really caring if the debris whacked Anders in the face (which it did).

"Hah. _So much in common_. You're both _people_, if _that's_ what you mean by having a lot in common." A rather large branch scraped Anders' face and he almost tripped. He needed to be paying more attention. Blast these trees – why couldn't he just burn his way through them?

"Oh but we share far more than that. We are both nobles, her displaced, I disgraced. We both have a very strong sense of justice and duty and we don't _run away from our troubles_."

Okay. Now the Howe was just being a jerk. "Don't pretend you know all there is to know about me, rogue. And the Commander is not a noble: she's a mage."

The superiority that laced Nathaniel's next words made Anders want to punch him in the back of the head. "Do you not recognize her name? Leonie Caron? Do you not know who the Caron family is? They are a very prominent noble family in Orlais. Some are blood relatives to the Empress. But I suppose being locked in a tower going dumb makes it easy to miss these things."

Instead of punching him, Anders simply growled out, "Mages are not nobles. Surely you know that they lose any ties when they are taken from their families for exhibiting magical abilities." Their conversation's heatedness came in part to rivalry, but on Anders' end, it was also just sheer frustration that fueled his rude comments. He knew he was being petty, but his enormous stubborn streak didn't give a rat's ass.

"And sons of fathers who disgrace an entire heritage of noble blood are hardly nobles either. Which is where I was drawing my comparison." Oh for the love of a tragic past! Anders rolled his eyes.

"Your daddy issues get old fast. And your list of similarities is stark, Howe. Remind me again, who was it who was so opposed to oversimplification?"

Nathaniel took a particularly heavy swing, sending splinters flying. "I suppose you think you have more in common with our Commander?"

"As a matter of fact I do. For starters, we're both mages." Anders faltered for a second. He truly did believe he was better suited than Nathaniel, he just couldn't fully put it into words.

"That is a great list so far." The sarcasm dripped off Nathaniel thicker than the rain.

"We're both _attractive_," it was an asinine insult, but he didn't care. "We both actually have a sense of humor and we both like cats."

"Well then. My most sincere apologies. You are obviously a perfect match. How could I not see it." No. _Now _Howe's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Apology _not_ accepted."

And suddenly they were at the crest of the hill.

* * *

><p>The following day, deep in the forest, their fearless Warden Commander was leading the way when Nathaniel stepped in front of her, extending an arm to hold her back.<p>

"Tread carefully. The ground is trapped." The Commander took a step back and looked to where Nathaniel had begun disarming the tripwire.

"Gracious! I vould never 'ave seen zat in time! Thank you, Nathaniel. You are a great 'elp." Whether or accident or on purpose, the Howe caught Anders' eye for a split second as he delicately disarmed the tripwire.

"You are most welcome, my lady." Nathaniel was undeniably smirking. Yeah. Definitely on purpose. Anders did not approve.

But traps were stupid anyhow; Anders could be just as useful as Nathaniel. After all, she'd brought him along too – not just the Howe. Him, Nathaniel and… Oghren. Okay, so he was on par with the drunk dwarf. Whatever. Anders was helpful in other ways.

So he set out to endeavor to be more useful. If his motives were less than the pure satisfaction of a job-well-done, then so be it.

* * *

><p>One day, in the Keep, he saw the Commander examining a blank rune and stepped up to assist her. But Justice was at her side in a flash. "My lady. If you should need help, I am well adept in the art of runecrafting. I can assist you with any such crafting you may need."<p>

And she turned a grateful smile on the corpse-man. "I vould really appreciate any 'elp you could give, Justice." _Well isn't that just peachy_, Anders thought.

On another day, she came into the Keep and it was her who immediately approached him, sacks of dried elfwood in hand. "Bonsoir, Anders. I… vas 'oping you could 'elp me vith something. I think it would be useful to make some potions from zee plants we gather, and save money for zee reinforcements of zee Keep. You 'ave some 'erbalist skill, do you not?" His grin stretched from ear to ear. See? Useful skills!

"I do indeed my lady! And might I say, that is most wise of you, though perhaps you should save more coin for ale instead. A much more sound investment, surely." The Commander smiled but rolled her eyes as she set everything on the table and he began to pull out the necessary tools. In a great mood, he went on:

"What? Ale is a potion too, Commander; why, look what they do to Oghren. Sober, he's a horrible fighter. Just rotten. Can't hit the broad side of a castle."

She smiled and swatted at him good-naturedly. "You are too much."

He put his hands on his hips, and with mock indignance, replied, "I'm serious! In Ferelden, they don't even call it ale – they call it Dwarven Fighting Juice." She narrowed her eyes at him, disbelief and joviality dancing in them.

"…Zey do not."

He held up his hands, fighting back a grin; "Why would I lie to you?" She shook her head, a smile stretching across her pretty lips.

"Anders, vhat in Thedas vill I do vith you?"

He immediately thought of a number of things he'd _like_ her to do with him, but suddenly, Velanna came marching up to them, and in her usual blunt tone, demanded of Anders, "What are you doing? Human, your clumsy fingers will waste the ingredients! If there is need of an herbalist, I am by far the superior choice." The Commander smiled at him sheepishly.

"I, ah, sank you for zee offer to 'elp, Velanna. I could always use your expertise vith 'erbs." And the elf pretty much elbowed him aside. Anders moved out of the way, and tried to mask the sudden feeling of uselessness with more jokes.

"Oh, yes, yes, your fireballs are bigger, your herbalism is better- if I didn't know any better, Velanna, I'd say you have an inferiority complex. Face it – you secretly want to be a human. Ah, I knew it!"

Bent over the herbs and pulling out a flask, Velanna replied harshly (as usual), "Your attempted jokes are pointless nonsense. Elven mages are far superior to any human ones."

Anders raised a skeptical eyebrow and cleared his throat. Velanna's shoulders stiffened as she realized what she'd said, and she turned around to face him and their mage Commander, whose eyes were averted and emotions masked. Anders let out a low whistle.

"Wow, so this is what an elf looks like when she feels awkward – face all scrunched up... It's a bit like your usual expression, actually."

Velanna did not meet their eyes, but glared at the floor; "I did not mean that in reference to the Commander; I meant it specifically in reference to you, Anders. And to humans in general. But there are… some exceptions…"

The tension in the air was palpable. More so than he would expect it to be, considering the genial nature of the Commander most of the time, and her tolerance of Velanna's lack of social graces. Or manners. Or politeness of any sort. He couldn't help thinking it was time to bail.

"Well as cheery as this is, I am going to leave you ladies to it, and try to find my cat…"

As he walked off, he overhead the Commander saying rather sternly to Velanna, "Velanna, I sank you for lending your expertise. Certainly zee Dalish 'ave arts ve do not know, and excel in many things. But it is good for you to remember zat magic is not someseen belonging to your people only, and is not to be assumed under control. You vould do vell to remember zat." And he was surprised at her forwardness. And her flustered state. She was usually rather good with her Ferelden, and only got mixed up when riled or confused. Which in itself was rare.

Not that Velanna didn't deserve a reprimand – she'd had one coming – but the Commander was usually so lenient. Velanna's response, if she gave one, he did not hear.

He found Ser-Pounce-A-Lot in the kitchen, scrounging for dropped food, but the cat was far too busy to want to play, so, pouting, Anders trudged off to sulk in the courtyard.

Okay, so Nathaniel opened locks and disarmed traps. Justice was an expert runecrafter. Sigrun he knew, was adept with survival skills and poison-making. Velanna was a better herbalist than he. Oghren… did Oghren have any special skills other than drinking, swearing, and swinging an axe? Anders sighed. Just great, so he only was as helpful as Oghren after all.

* * *

><p>His moping must have been more obvious than he'd thought, because it wasn't much after the herbalism run-in that the Commander approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. He knew it was her at her touch, and turned around, looking up to meet her gaze.<p>

"I… feel like I owe you an apology, Anders…"

"For what, Commander?"

"I... am not entirely sure. But for Velanna's bad behavior, certainly." For a split second, he thought about putting his own hand over hers, before losing his nerve at the stony look in her eyes. Now was not the time, he told himself.

"Commander, it is not your job to make excuses for her. Or for anyone."

She turned her head away, grey eyes distant, strong jawline stretched tight with… something, and her hand fell from his shoulder.

"Per'aps you are right. Per'aps it is not necessary. But she does not appreciate zee generosity 'er comrades offer 'er. I understand zat she is bitter towards humans-"

"Towards everyone, really." Anders added.

"But zey all seem to accept 'er just the same. She eez… 'ow you say, very _pretty_, after all."

Her stumbling English caught him by surprise for the second time that day, as did the bitterness of what she'd said and how she'd said it. He stood up slowly_,_ towering over her_, _and the contrast of positions slid her perspective into focus for him. "By the maker, Commander, are you jealous of Velanna?" She shook her head vehemently, but still kept her gaze on the far-off.

"No! I- well… 'owever I say zis, it is going to sound terrible, I know. But…" and her head turned to face him and her gaze slid, a second behind, to meet up with his. "…you and Nathaniel are so nice to her, and she eez so… _abrasif…_ in return. Such men as yourselves are too rare and kind to be treated in such ways."

He wanted to tease her – that was his first reaction. But something else tugged at him, and it occurred to him that perhaps a more honest response would assuage her better here. So he grinned at her and said,

"You have no reason to be, you know. Jealous, I mean. You are by far the most skilled mage I have ever met, the most beautiful thing this sodding hill has seen in decades, and really, there is no comparison as far as temperament. Velanna is… well, to put it lightly, she's a bitch."

"Anders!" Was there a smile sneaking out under the reprimand?

"Am I wrong?" He shrugged and grinned.

She turned away again, but the upward twitch of her lips as she replied was… thoroughly rewarding. "Well… it is often difficult to remember zat 'er attitude 'as been shaped by zee abuse 'er people suffer. I forget it myself at times, when she is rude."

She cleared her throat and schooled her expression once more, her contrition and self-reprimand erasing her pleasure at his compliment. Oh no, he was going to bring that smile back.

"Even her own people thought she was a bitch. It's okay. I admit, I found her quite sexy when we first met. But as it turns out? Wronged or no, she's just unpleasant."

She looked up at him with a soft, sudden earnestness and her stormy eyes were intoxicating.

"I owe my 'appiness to you at zis moment." Her words took him by surprise. He was pretty sure there was something lost in translation, but at the same time, he was surprised how much he found himself wanting the full spectrum of meaning to apply here. But too serious required a joke.

"Well it is good I have _some _use in this ragtag group. I was beginning to wonder why you dragged me along!" His tone was meant to be light, but all the honesty of the evening had dug the floor out from under his hidden trepidations, and his tone belied his joking intent.

Her mouth set in a hard line, and he knew she'd caught this wisp of self-doubt. Anders cursed himself silently, and her as well, for her intuition. His thoughts either began to race or just plain scattered when she placed her hand on his arm – he couldn't tell which, and wasn't paying enough attention to care, at any rate.

"Anders. You are my Healer. Zere is no one else in our company with your skill. You must know your value." His chest inflated with the compliment, as the sincerity behind it was undeniable, pouring from her wide eyes and firmly-set lips. Oh, those lips.

He smiled and bowed his head dramatically, placing his own hands over the one on his arm, cheesing the moment up as much as possible. "My powers are at your command, o fair warden commander."

She smiled at him and pulled away, clasping her own hands together, "And you should know zat I… enjoy traveling vis you. You are very funny. You make me smile - make me laugh when I get too stuck in my 'ead. Whenever I am feeling too serious you say someseen so silly and I cannot 'elp but feel better."

He could feel the goofy smile spreading across his face and he did nothing to stop it. "Do I?" She nodded and laughed suddenly.

"Oh yes. Oh, once, you said," and clearing her throat and spreading her arms wide, she deepened her voice in a rudimentary imitation of him (accent getting in the way) and said, "'ey, I am _fond_ of ze Howes! I am also fond of zee Vhys, zee 'Oos and zee Vhats." Anders' grin grew even wider. She was… adorable. And flattering him!

"You heard that? Ahh, well, I'm a cad, aren't I?" He couldn't believe she remembered it verbatim.

She poked him gently in the chest. "Yes, you are. Vhen ve first entered zee Blackmarsh, it vas… unlike any place I 'ad ever been and I felt _intimidé_… alors, I mean… nervous."

He faked a gasp. "Not you, fearless leader!"

She looked away sheepishly. "Vell, I vorry about zee velfare of… of my men…" She cleared her throat and skipped track; "Anyvay, zis tension is building up inside of me, and suddenly you say, 'I am scared. Hold me?' You must remember. I barely kept from laughing too loudly." The more she talked, the giddier he became.

"As I recall, you did _not_ hold me at that point in time. Ah, and here I thought you cared for the welfare of your men."

Her grin grew. "You see? Zat is vhat I mean. You make it very easy to be around you."

He sighed comically and said, "Not all of our companions seem to think that way… but as long as you do… well then I can't complain, can I? Not that I won't, mind you."

"Don't get me wrong. You are a vonderfully gifted mage." She waved her hand about, as if to prevent misinterpretation.

He thought she was absolutely charming. How she could command troops one minute and the next be as adorable as a kitten with her Orlesian mannerisms was beyond him. He was beginning to suspect this was her version of putting her walls down. And if so, he was excited to see it. "Ah, coming from you, my dear lady, that is a compliment. Or sympathy. Either way, I'll take it. And… thank you. "

She blinked at him in confusion. "For zat? There is no thanks required. It is true."

"I meant thank you for laughing, I suppose."

She smiled softly and with an almost embarrassed grin, replied quietly, "Well… zen you are welcome." He wondered if she had meant to divulge that much information, and the thought that she hadn't made him giddy.

* * *

><p>The next time they were out in the marshes, the Commander came upon a chest. The second she found it to be locked, Nathaniel stepped forward to stand at her right shoulder and said, "I think I can help with that." And Anders rolled his eyes at his smug tone. When he finished, Nathaniel said, "It is as you wished," and took a step back. The Commander smiled at him appreciatively, and knelt to open the chest. The Howe looked far too smug, and Anders decided to retort.<p>

"You know, I have been covered in mud for so long that I can hardly recall a time _before_ I was covered in mud." The Commander has smiled, and it spurred him on. "Dragon Age? They should have called it Sludge Age. Or Muck Age. Maybe Filth Age, to encompass even more unpleasant things to be covered in – like darkspawn gore!" The Howe rolled his eyes, and Anders continued, "What? I think it's a sound argument. We have yet to see a dragon, but I have been covered in goo for 3 days straight." The Commander's soft chuckle made him smile from ear to ear, and he shot Nathaniel a smug grin.


	3. Because Past Predetermines Present

A/N: Woooo long time no post. I am sure there are few who care. But this thing is precious to me- even more so after what they did to Anders in DA2... I know, I know, I said I got over that. And I love DA2. But Awakening Anders has an incredibly special place in my heart and this romance, or the in-game lack thereof, has created a nostalgic place in my mind for this story. So there you go.

Anyway, I rarely ever enjoy reading other people's PC background stories, but I tried to come up with something that would fit a spell-casting grey warden from Orlais traveling all the way to Ferelden post-blight to do clean-up duty as it were. Whatevs. Enjoy if you can.

Because Past Predetermines Present:

_On History_

On this particular evening, at this particular camp site, by this particular fire, Anders decided there was nothing in Thedas that sounded better than sidling up next to his saucy commander.

Not that she wasn't a treat to talk to all the time (with her witty retorts they had a nice repartee), and not that he hadn't already been spending more time with her lately because he just plain wanted to. And sure, he might have gone over there just for that… Also she was very, very pretty and he really enjoyed her company etcetera, etcetera (Though she'd probably roll her eyes at being described as saucy).

But it didn't hurt that she sat there in their camp, halfway to the Knotwood Hills, looking utterly ravish-able with all outer ornaments, belts and sashes of her Spellminder robes removed, leaving her sitting in just the silver-grey tunic that landed about mid-thigh. And it certainly wasn't a deterrent that her long legs were bare and looked so smooth there, glowing in the firelight. And it was hardly a bad thing that her well-manicured feet were equally free from their vestments (It should have been shocking that she managed to keep her feet immaculate and adorable despite this walking, and yet part of him was sure it just came naturally).

And. And. And. And. So _many_ reasons.

But the big kicker was that her chestnut hair was out of the usual bun and in a long, loose, messy braid that fell over her shoulder and ended right below her bosom.

He'd been enthralled. He knew that she would write it off if he complimented her, but she just looked so… available. Not like the Commander of The Grey, but like Leonie Caron, a mage from Orlais. And he wanted to talk to that girl.

So he would! Why not, right? Equipping himself with his most charming smile, he approached this casual image of grace.

"Good evening, my lovely Warden." She looked up from her map briefly, and smiled, before returning her gaze to their route.

"Good evening, my… gregarious mage." Sometimes, only sometimes, he'd forget she was not easily won with mere schmoozing. But she'd remind him of it with a soft, seemingly-unaffected smile.

So he sat down on one of the strategically-placed sitting-logs facing her.

"I have been thinking, fearless leader. And the thing is, you know so much about me and my story while I know next to nothing about _your_ past."

This was true enough, and he couldn't help wanting to talk to her, flirt with her – pretty as she was. But there was also the fact that she was his Commander and the one who saved him from the Chantry _and_ the one he trusts with all his secrets it seems, so he was genuinely interested.

She lifted her head this time and that braid fell across her back. "Zhere really is not much to know, I am afraid," was all she said before looking back down once more. _By Andraste, is that map really more interesting than me!?_

Only slightly more annoyed than discouraged, he continued. "I beg to differ! And Orlesian mage who joined the ranks of the Grey Wardens and was sent to Ferelden to become the Commander of Vigil's Keep? There must be a story there."

"Zhat is all of it, I fear – see, you already know my story." She smiled but didn't look away from the map again. _Damn the map._ But Anders was an expert at not allowing his disappointments to interfere with his words – a talent earned from great practice at flirting with women.

"Why, I hardly know your story at all. I only know the 'what.' I would love to know the hows and whys, if you don't object to telling me."

Now she looked up at him. Oh and it was worth it. The firelight danced across the planes of her face and brought out the grey in her eyes. Her feminine Orlesian features were all made even softer by her halo of loosely-braided hair and the less-harsh light of the moon.

During the day she was equally beautiful – put together, more angular – an air of decision about her, all beauty and brains and brawn and bravery. Now, the smooth line of her strong jaw blended delicately against the milky white color of her collarbone. He'd been right – here at night she was softer. She was still the same woman who donned that heavy mantle, the same one who wore it so well, but just for a moment, she was setting it down to be like everyone else. Tired. And human. He just had to get her out of her shell. He didn't think he'd catch her off guard again, like he had after the Herbalism incident. The Commander was a well-walled woman when it came to sharing her own story. But he would scale that wall and get inside.

He also liked how dirty that happened to sound.

"You vould really like to know?" There was no insecurity in her voice, per say, but Anders detected the lilt of surprise.

"The story of our sexy, fearless leader and her rise to the rank of Commander of the Grey? That shall be the substance of legend one day!"

She rolled up their map and moved to face him, her slight smile glowing in the firelight, her legs stretching out before curling back up beneath her.

"I do not think it vill be as interesting as you expect."

"I spent an entire year alone with nothing more than a cat. Try me."

Her smile grew stronger and she folded her hands in her lap. "_D'accord_... Where to begin…" Her full lips puckered as she thought and he couldn't help tracing them with his eyes and imagining running his… but suddenly she was speaking again; her words sounding soft and exotic in the night air.

"I showed very advanced development in primal magic from a young age – a natural affinity if you vill. My Circle… vell, zee first enchanter 'ad high praises for me… but zee Templars were... _méfiaient_ – how you say – wary." The way she would twirl her hand in the air searching for a word was a quirk he was beginning to appreciate.

"Wary Templars. Imagine that." Anders couldn't help himself. She grinned at him, her white teeth flashing for a second before she returned to her story.

"Yes. Imagine zhat. So I vas not allowed to truly test any of my talents, or expand in any way beyond zee bounds of certain spells. It was all very frustrating. But then one day, zee Grey Wardens came to our circle. Zhey were recruiting and I was very determined to join them. I wanted to use my magic for something greater; I wanted to explore zee potential of my power. Not in any forbidden way, but I wanted... I wanted…

She seemed to be struggling to find the right word again, and Anders spoke up the second she did. Simultaneously they said, "Freedom."

It was as cliché as moments come, but she'd been looking at some point right past his left shoulder for most of her story so far, and at this, her gaze met his. They grinned at each other, as if sharing the secret of their knowingly-trite moment and deeper still, sharing the bond all bound mages share. He'd always felt closer to her because she too was a mage, and he felt that tug again, stronger, stronger. They continued to hold each other's gaze for another few seconds in silence, their half-embarrassed grins dropping into more natural looks, and he hoped his gaze mirrored the warmth he found in hers.

"But zee Wardens said I was too young." She sighed audibly, and her shoulders sagged as she dropped her usually perfect posture. "Zhis was before zee Blight in Ferelden, you see – about ten years ago. I was only thirteen. But one warden – a mage – he vas very kind, and he said he would come back for me. He told zee first enchanter and zee Templars to allow me to train further – and specifically as a Battle Mage."

She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and Anders watched intently. Even as a mage himself, it was stunning to think – those delicate, gentle fingers were the source of some of the most powerful elemental spells he had ever seen. He tried to focus on her story and not wonder what else she could do with those fingers, running over his chest-

"I was elated. Zhis warden, Arnaud… Arnaud Barteau." Anders' lustful thoughts vanished. The way she said his name, his Orlesian name on her Orlesian tongue, laced with a sense of nostalgia and longing, made Anders suddenly feel as though she was far, far out of reach.

"Oh, 'e became the focus of my every ambition. I decided I would become a real mage and a warden worthy of fighting at 'is side. I worked hard on my spells, I completed my harrowing; I did everything to be free from zee Circle – to live in a world where he lived."

Her very words were like a spell themselves, and they wove anxiety through his muscles and spun tension in his shoulders. Was there someone waiting for her, back in Orlais? Once this whole business was done – if they lived – would she vanish into another man's arms?

"Well, finally, seven years passed… and 'e came _back_. Can you believe? I still… even though I knew 'e said 'e vould, there had been so many times when I doubted. Who would come back for a mousy little mage with eyes too big for her face and dreams too big for her kind?"

Even if she did have someone, he refused to let his countenance show his unease. So Anders leaned back and gave her a teasingly skeptic glare. "I don't believe that. You were an awkward-looking child? _You_?" She blushed slightly and twirled the end of her long braid around her fingers.

"It is true. I 'ad… features too big for my bones. That is what my mother said once. Long ago. Before I was taken to zee Circle. But she promised me that if I behaved like a proper Caron lady, zhen I would grow into them gracefully."

Anders couldn't help himself: "Then you must have behaved quite perfectly, because your features certainly fit you now."

She narrowed her eyes at him; "Anders, I do not know zhat we are talking about zee same features. I speak of my eyes and my lips – _visage_ – and you speak of…"

Anders barked out a laugh. "You know, in many circumstances you would have caught me red-handed there. But no, Commander. I _was_ referring to your face. Well, and your neck… and your collarbone. If there was any awkwardness in you as a small Orlesian child, there is only elegance now."

She did not completely forgive him with her eyes, but her glare did lighten.

"Please. Do continue your story, my lady." She pursed her lips in a very no-nonsense way, but he was very nearly positive she was trying to suppress a smile.

"I passed my joining, as you might 'ave guessed by now, and Arnaud requested I be under 'is command. Of course, I was so excited by this. For a year, I trained even 'arder, and zee Warden troupe I was with traveled all over Orlais, quelling small troubles in villages, taking out savage creatures, and once or twice, we dealt with very powerful, very evil maleficarum. I could not have been happier, at zee time, save for one thing."

She placed her hand over her heart and stared into the campfire. Anders wouldn't call her expression wistful, but perhaps regretful and slightly grave.

"Arnaud… he vas much older than I, but I fancied myself in love with 'im. I know now zhat I was zhen more in love with zee idea of him – of zee person I had painted him to be in all those years waiting – my rescuer, my valiant white knight. But I was... stupid then. When I turned 21 and had been a Warden for a year, I told him zhat I loved him. I spilled my heart like a clumsy maid spills a bucket of milk. Oh, Anders, you would have been embarrassed for me it was so bad!"

The gravity has passed and she was grinning now, leaning back on her log, relaxed and enjoying herself. He couldn't help feeling relaxed as well. "Commander, I can't imagine you doing anything ineloquently." What he had almost said was this: "I am sure any man would die to have you profess your love for them – eloquently or not." But something held him back. That flirting felt a little too… a little too much like something real.

"I assure you, it was embarrassing. Zee words, "je t-aime - I love you" stumbled from my mouth at breakfast one day, when he passed the bread, and in a panic to justify them, I started an avalanche. I believe I said something to zee effect of 'Ser, I- I- I 'ave fought valiantly for your side – or, no, what I mean to say is, I have longed to fight valiantly at your side for many long years. I… as a girl of but 13 I knew zhat your side was zee side I wanted my side to be…at.' And then finished with a mumbled, 'I am… sorry. I guess all I mean to say is zhat it was an honor zhat you remembered such a strange little girl was waiting for you, trapped in zee Circle, longing to be rescued.'"

They were both laughing hard now. After gaining control again, Anders managed to gasp out, "'Strange little girl?' Leonie, you must learn to talk yourself up! Especially when professing love! Or at the least, when being humble, do not call yourself _strange_."

She wiped away a tear of mirth as the last of her laughter drained from her: "Thank you for the advice, Anders. I will try to remember zhat, next time I profess my love to someone." A jolt of energy raced up his spine at this. He cleared his throat and said easily,

"Tell me, what did Arnaud say to this earnest maiden's confession?"

She smiled, but it was distant, as if her mind was already far away, years ago. "He really was gracious. And 'e did not mock me. 'e put a hand on my shoulder and replied, 'Leonie, how could I have forgotten those eyes?"

Anders felt suddenly estranged again, and hardly knew what to say to that. But he'd yet to be at a loss for words in his life, and a reply was on his tongue in the next moment.

"Ha. And you said you were an awkward child. I never believed it."

She folded her arms across her chest and looked lost in her thoughts as she continued. "In any case, we became romantically… involved. And stayed zhat way, for a year. I imagined myself more in love zhan ever. It was a fairy tale, and I wanted it to be true, so I ignored all the signs zhat it was not."

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs, paying close attention now. He'd jumped to conclusions; perhaps this flame had cooled. "Signs like what?"

Her head bowed and her hand went to her forehead for a second; she sighed heavily all as though in exhaustion or pain. But she righted again and continued.

"When 'e was promoted to Commander of our troupe after our old Commander heard zee Calling, Arnaud became… even _more_ brash. I 'ad always admired 'is brazen attitude, but it seems without something to hold it in check, he let zee power go to 'is head. He began practicing blood magic, and he vanted to teach me. He got very upset vhen I refused to learn. He said it was for the benefit of the people – we made sacrifices so zhat others may live 'appily. I understood that. But when zee sacrifices we made were no longer things we 'ad zee right to sacrifice, I took a stand."

Anders shouldn't push, but he had to know. "What did he do?"

She was wringing her hands as she explained: "At first it was – some monsters in battle zhat he sacrificed for his blood magic. And zhen it was sickly livestock. And zhen _healthy_ livestock. And one day he sacrificed an elven servant. It was… it was _horrible_. And it was not even for battle! He sacrificed him because he wanted to become more powerful. And I could not stop him; it was done before I even knew what had happened. It had been my fault. I should have stopped it earlier, but I did not. I was a foolish girl in love with a foolish dream."

They sat there, her last words hanging in the air above them. Anders wasn't sure he was supposed to talk at all here, so he stayed wisely silent until she was ready to continue. At last, she said,

"And so I left. I told our Warden Superior what he had done and asked for reassignment. He was punished, but I do not know how. I did not want to. No longer desiring to stay put under zee command of Arnaud, I moved up zee warden ranks quickly; my superiors made of me a good leader and their confidence inspired my own. When zee need for a Commander at Vigil's Keep came, I jumped at the opportunity. It was far away from home, but I did not care. I wanted to help where help was truly needed. I had let myself become someone's appendage. I wanted to find my own path – define myself based on my own standards, not someone else's. Arnaud had once said to me, 'Leaders do not serve the people. Zhey help zee people when zhey can, but zhey do not serve them.' I believed differently. And now I would live zhat way."

Anders had to marvel to himself at how well he'd gotten his quiet commander to open up. Yep. And the map was folded up and out of sight. "You are a remarkable leader, Commander."

She tried to smile lightly and added, "Well, either way, 'ere I am! I suppose I could have made zee story many times shorter if I just said, 'I was recruited, found out my lover was a maleficar, left 'im and came 'ere,' but I… I suppose I liked confiding in you, Anders."

He laughed, "I am glad you did not put it that way. The long version is far more interesting. And I quite like it when you confide in me… Leonie." He'd been hoping to sneak her name in somewhere like that - step it up to that next level. Sure, she deserved all the respect of "Commander" but this version in the firelight was nothing but Leonie. And _Anders_ was nothing if not willing to take a risk with a pretty girl.

Her eyes widened and her response was slow and purposeful. "You know… no one 'ere calls me that." She reached up and placed a hand against her own cheek and her eyes turned towards the fire before them, wistful. "It 'as been a long time since I 'ave 'eard my own name on someone's lips… I confess I missed it, as strange as zhat sounds."

He felt giddy, getting away with that. _Be prepared, Leonie, _Anders thought, proud that he could take her by surprise; "Perhaps we fear we'll only butcher such a feminine, Orlesian name with our heavy Ferelden tongues."

Her eyes slid shut and she exhaled heavily. "It 'as felt very good to tell zhis story out loud." Opening her eyes slowly, her gaze met his. "I thank you for asking, Anders. And even more so for listening."

_Triumphs all across the board._

"Any time, my lady." She picked up her map and stood, and he politely stood with her. Smiling at him, she turned and started to head to her tent but her footsteps ceased after only a few feet and she turned her head to the side (braid swaying against her back, he couldn't help noticing), and said,

"Anders. Do not worry. I think my name sounds _just fine_ on your Ferelden tongue."

A bolt of lust shot through him at the teasing in her voice and the suggestive images it brought along with it, but she had resumed walking and had vanished into the darkness before he could reply.

_Maker_. Were all Orlesians this appealing, or just his?

His. Hmm, that _would_ be nice.


	4. Because Heroism Should be Esteemed

Wow! All of a sudden there have been so many nice people who've liked this story! I'm so very glad! I'll make sure to get the updates going a bit faster, now that I know people are interested! It's amazing what a good review can do. This was sitting around, 95% completed, but I never got around to even thinking about it until I got a delightful comment from Zepper. So here we are, with chapter 4!

This chapter is based off of a sidequest in the game that really pissed me off – the story of Keenan and Nida – the dying soldier you find in the cave who gives you his wedding ring. You go to tell his wife, and she's with another man and says all of these awful things. So I really wanted to write about it – how I felt it would have pissed Leonie off to no end. And it spiraled into this.

Also, as you may have noticed, I've toned down the French accent a bit, just to keep things from being too hard to read. I think I just got too caught up in my own head to consider my reader, honestly.

Because Heroism Should Be Esteemed

_On Thanklessness_

Despite all the respect and benevolent and present-but-unnamed feelings he had for his Commander, Anders often felt quite beneath her. Not that he minded so much – he wasn't out to rule the world – he was happy to follow her lead. But sometimes he felt as though there was never a moment where she ever let anything get to her – and that he could hardly relate to. Even the Leonie at the camp fire was calm and composed. If there was such a thing as too perfected, Commander Leonie Caron was close.

He didn't know why, but he wanted to be able to comfort her, instead of always vice versa. She was forever helping others, finding their missing husbands who'd hanged themselves, consoling those that lost someone, ridding the streets of crime and being the eternal shoulder to lean on. If she ever got weary of it all, he never saw it – and for some strange reason, he wanted to.

But of course, when it first happened there was no feeling of relief or triumph in him: only sadness and the desire to help.

He hadn't noticed it then but now he was sure it began the morning after they'd returned from the Silverite Mine. The town had been rioting, angry at the very Commander that protected them. If it had been up to him, he would have screamed at them, telling them what fools they were to not notice how the wardens all worked so hard to keep them safe – her most of all. But she had said in the most calming voice, persuasive and logical as always, "The Keep needs protection. If it falls, the city will too." And the riot had dispersed in front of her, albeit begrudgingly.

That had not been the end of it, however. That traitorous "noble" bitch, Bann Esmerelle had hired the Crows to assassinate them all. _The Crows! _All the way from bloody Antiva! Why? Because she missed the traitorous Arl Howe, of all things. The Commander herself dealt the final blow – an authoritative step forward, then her arm thrust forcefully into the air and the cold rippled outward from it like an avalanche. The _Hand of Winter_ shot through the air in all directions, powerful and swift, the temperature in the room instantly dropping. Protected as they all were from the brunt of the spell through the sheer will of its caster, Anders still felt the frigid wind rush past him, and all around, the would-be assassins dropped to the stone floor, felled and frozen. If he ever forgot what a powerful mage she was, he had only to think of her casting her _Hand of Winter _to remind him.

After, he hadn't had the chance to see how she was coping before she had dashed to the Seneschal's side. He followed, to heal him, if he could.

And still, she held. Her breaking point, like all inevitable ones, came not as a tempest, but as a slight breeze.

She had insisted they quickly head back to Amaranthine to deliver Keenan's ring to his wife, Nida, after discovering the poor warden's fate in the Mine. When they got there to find the Nida woman with another man, Anders himself hadn't been that surprised – such was the state of Thedas. But the Commander's words were biting in ways he had never heard before, as she said to the woman, "Who is zhis man? Are you being unfaithful to your 'usband?"

But of course Nida had her excuses, and vague answers, unapologetic about the whole ordeal. And so Leonie thrust the ring into the woman's palm and closed her fingers around it for her, knuckles turning white as she held the adulterer's fist shut. And then she spoke with such conviction that Anders actually thought she might cry at the weight of her own words; "He died making zee world better for all of us."

_Anders_ had been moved, but not Nida apparently, as she ripped her hand back from the Arlessa's. "He said that did he? Keenan always said he joined the wardens to give me a better life. Was it really better for me to be alone in a strange country? Wondering if we'd ever have a family?"

The Commander's teeth ground together as she growled, "So you _are_ cheating on 'im, zhen."

If there was any regret or fight in Nida, it didn't come through in her voice or demeanor. "He was gone for months at a time, often with no word. Was I supposed to wait forever? He forgets that I'm a living, breathing woman, not just a symbol of something he's fighting for. Love can only take you so far."

And then Nida turned and walked away, calm and collected, as though mourning was a cloak to shrug off at will.

For a second, Anders was pretty sure they were all thinking the same thing: the Commander might just kill this woman. Was she about to lose her cool for the first time since they'd all met?

But no. Her face was as if carved from stone as she turned and marched down the steps of the Crown and Lion.

"Ve are leaving." Her Orlesian accent chipped the words out of ice.

And so Anders, Sigrun and Justice followed her wordlessly back to Vigil's Peak.

They'd all dispersed upon return to the Keep, and she'd told them they had two hours to do whatever they would like before they were to set out again. He'd thought after such a trying morning that she might like some relaxation with him and Ser Pounce-a-lot. Maybe a light discussion about magic, a little laughter, some flirting on his part…

He knew she had been upset, but it was still beyond shocking to witness just how the straw had broken the camel's back.

A large crash had him slamming her door open without asking, fearing… he didn't know what. But she'd simply hurled something against the wall. (Simply. Ha.) Turning to see him, he thought she might berate him for entering uninvited or pretend she was fine, but she did neither. Instead she leapt into a tirade.

"Love can only take you so far. Ha! Zhat woman vas not even sad to know Keenan vas dead! _Keenan_! 'e vas a _fine _soldier, talked of nothing but her when he went through his joining! Drank to 'er – fought for 'er – sustained 'imself on 'er memory! A woman would be lucky to 'ave such a man as 'e vas! And she has been with _another_ because zhere is nothing more important in zhis world than 'er sex drive?! I cannot believe it! _Love can only take us so far. W_ell it would seem zhat selfishness takes you zee rest of the way!"

She slammed her fist on the table, her head down and her breathing hard. And then she suddenly grabbed the whole table itself and hurled it violently to the floor. The commotion echoed off the stone walls for longer than seemed natural.

For all his wanting to see her like this, in a sense, Anders didn't know what to say. But the fight seemed to drain from her and she sank to her bed with a sob, and buried her head in her hands. In a voice that sounded torn from her throat, she gasped,

"Zhis… zhis is why we fight? Zhis is what our thanks will be? Zhat we are to be forgotten and betrayed by zee ones we are trying so 'ard to protect? Appreciate zee blood we pour out for them, no, they demand more! More!" She sniffled once and the sound was so pitiful and small. Anders hadn't known so much emotion could come from such a tiny sound. Before he could even decide what to do, she continued, voice broken, anger gone.

"…I 'aven't zee troops to protect zee city _and_ zee countryside _and_ zee keep. I 'aven't zee men to do so. But I… I try, do I not? I do not 'ave zee men, but I try to protect them all, just the same." It is… it is selfish of me to want them to see that?"

He sat down next to her and wrapped her small hand in his. The feeling in Anders' chest that fueled the gesture made it intimate beyond anything he'd ever done.

"Commander, the nature of people is to want more. It always has been. Everyone I've ever met has been driven by a personal need. The templars wanted me back for fear of the damage I could cause, for fear of the power of us mages. The Chantry wants their word spread because they themselves want to be seen worthy in the Maker's eyes. I ran away because I wanted my freedom. We all have our selfishness. But you… I have never seen someone as selfless as you."

She wiped her eyes once with her free hand, head hung low, and he saw they were red. "You are wrong. I am selfish."

Anders had never felt a stronger desire to make someone feel better than he did at this moment. His voice nearly broke with the urgency of his words.

"You take up any small task asked of you for the general good, for a small payment in return – a payment you then use to improve the Keep, or your troops' armor, or occasionally as gifts for your comrades. You protect the people from all the evils of this world that you can. You take on jobs knowing they will not be easy – that there will be no happy ending – to help the people of this country – a country that is not even yours by birth."

He wished she'd look at him. "But I seek their praises for it. By the Maker, the good deeds alone should be enough."

He pulled the hand he held into his lap and engulfed it with both of his own. "Leonie, if you are selfish, it is only in that you are sorrowed by their hatred. That is not so bad a sin."

She was silent a long moment. His heart thudded painfully – a hammer in his chest. Was he so awful at this? Would someone else have been better? Nathaniel… would he be able to console their commander? But her soft voice invaded his thoughts; sounding not nearly so sad as before, she practically whispered,

"…Not so bad a sin, you say?" She had told him… told him once that she kept him around because he made her happy. Made her laugh. Could he do that now? Would that help? For emotional injuries, it was all he had. So he cracked a small smile and said, almost shyly – as if expecting horrid repercussions,

"Your other sins include not ravishing me every second you have the chance, as well as being a terribly noisy eater."

She looked up at him now and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Her fingers twitched under his hand. He boldly intertwined them with his own.

"But of course. I am a great sinner for zhat." And she held his gaze, her red-rimmed eyes enticing in their vulnerability. The lascivious part of him wanted to ask her to elaborate on her meaning. But the majority of Anders knew that his banter had been perfect as it was; just a small joke. Not the time for a big one.

So he squeezed her hand and lifted it up to his lips. Holding her gaze, he mumbled against her knuckles, "Leonie. You are a remarkable woman. And if others are so flawed as to _not_ remark, then I shall have to do it for them." And he placed a delicate kiss against her hand.

She smiled at him warmly, a blush rising in her cheeks. "I think I would like that. To 'ave zee world repainted through your eyes. It seems to reflect much better on me zhan zee reality."

He grinned, untangling their hands and helping her to stand. "Why, I could be your interpreter! I could paraphrase everything! The seneschal says, 'Commander, today we need to deal with the insurrections to the south.'" He imitated the seneschal's deep voice and stiff posture. Then relaxing he continued in his own voice, "And I'll say, "Your highest of highnesses, the farmers are pissed off again and want to bitch at someone for an hour. The upside is that you get to travel for half a day to a mud-filled farm and slay throngs of darkspawn in order for them to do it."

She laughed. "Zhat is not what 'e said!"

Anders, on a whim, twirled her on the spot where she stood, before letting go of her hand and replied, "Oh, but it is. Your Ferelden just isn't that good."

She laughed harder, and wiped at her eyes one last time. "Oh Anders, I do not know vhat I vould do without you and your jokes."

Anders felt warmth where his fear had been. He did not like seeing her upset. But he certainly liked being the one who could make her feel better – and he loved hearing her say things like that. "Now. Take a moment to prepare, because we are moving out in 30 minutes. Orders direct from the commander, you see."

She began walking towards the door and called over her shoulder, "so demanding! _Alors_, zhis commander sounds terribly strict."

He couldn't help himself now (and being honest, when could he ever?), and threw his arms wide as he replied, "Oh, she is. A real slave driver, in fact. Ah, but what can I say? I love a woman in charge."

She turned around in the doorway, glancing back at him, the red of her eyes the only sign of her former disress. "Thank you, Anders."

Maybe it was wrong to even bring it up, maybe it would only cause a backslide, but the words slipped out of his mouth before he'd even finished thinking them:

"Nera didn't deserve Keenan. When people you love are putting themselves on the line to protect something… you should put yourself on the line too. And anyway, she was wrong about love."

She seemed stunned for a second, but then there was a warm silence, filled with her wide smile. She stood there, delicate hands on the door frame, head tilted slightly and those full lips curled up at the corners. His heart stepped sideways in his chest.

Thud.

And then she turned and left.

_Anders. What has this become?_


	5. Because Endangerment Reveals Import

I'm back! Here's the next chapter. I experimented with the tenses, and I'm pretty sure it's all a mess right now, but I wanted to do present tense while he was rescuing her to imply a feeling of immediacy and panic. The area in question is separated by line breaks. Let me know if you think it worked!

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><p>Because Endangerment Reveals Import<p>

_One Damsels in Distress_

It was a casual question one day while in town, in response to some joke he had made that he couldn't remember if he had to.

"Anders, vhat is zis fascination vith damsels in distress?" A light question, asked as she stepped aside to let a few small children rush past, giggling and playing.

He hadn't thought much on it in a long time – his propensity for women in need of assistance. It had become something to joke about – an easy way into their hearts. Or rather, their beds. But now, he found he didn't think of those things so often. More and more, the damsels in his dreams became elemental mages with full lips and the ability to destroy a man in a gesture. It wasn't twittering blonds with doe eyes calling out his name, but seductive brunettes with eyes of slate gazing down lustily, running steady hands through his hair or down his chest…

"Ah, well they find me incredibly alluring, you see. Nothing so sexy as a man who's just saved your life, you know. Bypasses looks and personality and heads straight for undying affection."

The Howe muttered something nasty under his breath about that; Anders ignored him.

"But Commander, women such as yourself… well… you're hardly in distress. _You're _the noble white knight. Well, noble white mage. Or Noble Battle Mage. Or something. Anyway, you certainly don't need saving."

She had nodded slowly at that, and as he didn't know how to respond to her lack of response, he quickly changed the subject, and rambled on in a clumsy imitation of covering his tracks.

All of that would have lay forgotten amidst their many interactions, were it not for the unfortunate turn of events that same day – as if fate was testing his very words, throwing them back in his face and shifting the ground beneath his feet.

You see, they had come so close to the keep. He wasn't sure how but that didn't matter in the moment.

They'd been ambushed on their way home...

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><p>He isn't sure what makes him turn, but he does, just in time to see it all happen. She lets out a gasp of pure surprise as she's struck in the chest with a burst of bubbling black and green magic. Setting out to cast a ward, she's hit again. She loses her balance and stumbles back a few steps, completely dazed, spell forgotten. It's like slow motion as he watches her eyes roll back into her head and she falls backwards into a dead faint.<p>

Nathaniel is closer and is the first to reach her. Propping her head up, the rogue gently pours a health poultice down her throat, but nothing happens. Anders is dashing towards them. Of course nothing happens! The hex on the ground beneath her tells him she's cursed. How long had she been cursed? What kind of curse is it?

He drops to his knees beside the two of them, already moving to take their commander's body from Nathaniel. He resists.

"Go! Finish off the darkspawn!"

"But-"

"_I'm_ the Healer here! Give us some cover!" He's already pumping Heal into her and Nathaniel only hesitates a second longer before standing.

"Don't you let her die, mage!" And then he's turning and firing. Ha. As if Anders needs to be told how important this is.

But it doesn't look good. He lifts her gently, propping her chest up on top of his knees and holding her up with one arm. There's a contorted look of pain on her pretty face, her skin looks gray and he can't feel her pulse - either because his own is pounding so heavily through his veins or because she doesn't have one.

_Don't think about that._

The Heal spell seems to have done nothing. He was afraid of this. The hex is one he isn't familiar with, but it seems to be working like a Curse of Mortality. Dammit! He doesn't know Mystical Negation.

Which means he needs a templar.

_Who would have thought._

"Justice! I need you to cleanse the area! Now!"

Maker bless that spirit, who doesn't ask questions like the pestering Howe. It is less than a second later that he feels the familiar, uncomfortable, nullifying effect of a templar's area cleanse. The feeling makes him a little sick – well, a little sick_er_, but he swallows thickly and watches her for a response. The hex seems to dissipate, but there are no other changes.

He casts Revival and watches as the white light pumps through her. "Come on, Commander!" The glow fades away and still she doesn't move. Pressing his hand straight to her chest, he channels a second Heal spell.

"Commander, please." His mana is low – the battle was tough – but he casts Lifeward on her anyway, immediately followed by Cleansing Aura. And yet, her heartbeat is so faint and her skin is still ashen. The battle finishes in the background and he distantly hears the footsteps of the others approaching. Their companions stand around in silence, waiting to be needed, waiting to see if he can cure her. In his peripheral vision he catches sight of the boots of the Howe.

"Nathaniel, get me a lyrium potion!" As soon as the command is uttered, the rogue thrusts one into his hand wordlessly. Anders smashes the top open on the ground and throws it back in a single violent gulp.

The bitter taste of lyrium burns and he nearly chokes before clenching his teeth and holding back his nausea. Without wasting any more time, he puts his hand back on her chest and pumps Heal through her again. Her heartbeat is improving, but she's still not moving. He isn't fully rested for another Heal spell just yet, but he pumps one through her anyway. He can feel the raw weariness pre-casting causes, but he ignores it.

Regeneration comes to his fingertips and her body bucks up at the surge of magic that goes through her. "Leonie… please." Nearly out of healing spells, he drains the last of his mana casting Group Heal_. _They all glow in its wake – him, Nathaniel, Justice and _her_.

His hand resting on her chest, he tries to hold in his ragged breathing, to hear if her heartbeat has steadied. The uneasy rhythm begins to strengthen beneath his fingertips and the soft sound of what might be a groan gets caught in her throat. Her eyelids flutter – slowly those grey eyes open once more. Bewildered, her gaze slides to his face.

She rasps out, "Anders?" It sounds more like gravel crunching beneath his feet than his name, but he's overjoyed. The relief that floods through him would be enough to buckle his knees - if he had been standing, that is. Instead, he finally allows his shoulders to hunch. Although he doesn't let go of her and simply continues to support her upper body, he's beyond tired and she seems to be getting heavier. The adrenalin from the battle is ebbing away, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its wake. And yet a grin he can't contain breaks out on his face just the same.

"Well hello to you too, pretty lady." And things slow down…

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><p>"It is a vast relief to see you have survived, Commander." Justice crossed an arm over his chest and bowed.<p>

"Commander! How do you fare?" The worry in Nathaniel's voice held all the nobleness of his stupid upbringing, Anders thought.

"Thank you, all of you. You are zee most considerate friends." Her words cut out as she coughed and tried to draw in great breaths of air, chest heaving as she did so. It was only now that Anders was reminded that his hand basically rested between her breasts, fingertips grazing skin where her Spellminder robes allowed. Normally, this would be something to revel in, but under the circumstances… he lifted it away to hover over her chest instead.

"Take it easy, Commander. Would you like any more magic, courtesy of your resident Spirit Healer? Just say the word - I have a few spells that could have you feeling better in no time." He winked to sell the lie; it was not true. He wasn't sure he could cast anything for a while. But if she asked…

She reached her hand up toward him. Not sure what she was grasping for, he took her hand in his own and held it, looking down at her, alert and ready.

"Anders… you are so very low on mana… and so tired… Did you vear yourself out for me?" Her voice was fragile, soft, quiet - wobbling like a baby bird – her accent thicker than usual. It sounded so unlike her, and yet so intimate. Unthinkingly he laced his fingers with her own.

"Well my lady, you took quite a hit there. I couldn't let that be the end of it, you know. We have too much to do." She smiled up at him. The blue pulsating of his Regenerate, coupled with his Cleansing Aura spell made her radiate.

"So this is what it feels like… to be one of your damsels… in distress…." She took in a shaky breath. Talking wasn't the easiest thing for her now, but he wouldn't stop her. He was ever so eager to hear what she had to say.

" I must admit, you ver right… It is entirely charming, seeing my rescuer… zee second I awake from near-death... I sink I understand zee appeal." A weak grin adorned her face.

His heart raced, but the worry was still so fresh. He couldn't joke about this yet. So he squeezed her hand gently and smiled, but it was grave; "Forgive me, Commander, but as glad as I am to hear that you appreciate my valiant charms, I am not excited to repeat this... You had us quite scared for a moment there."

The smile slid from her face, replaced with a concerned frown that tugged the corners of her mouth down. She suddenly sounded like herself again as she said, "I apologize, Anders. That must have been very trying. And I thank you. Now, let us get back to zee Keep so that we might all rest."

Nathaniel and Justice stepped forward to help the Arlessa to her feet.

"Are you sure you can stand, my lady?" Nathaniel's arm wrapped around her waist in support. Anders refused to be jealous and tried to focus on his own attempts to stand.

"I am sure… Anders was incredible… and I feel myself growing stronger zee longer 'is spells hold."

Despite her affirmation of strength, the circles under her eyes worried him. Not that he was going to go all motherly or anything, but the way those eyes had rolled back into her head as she fell wouldn't stop running through his mind. For all her strength he feared a relapse at any second. The others seemed to share his concern, as Justice and Nathaniel supported her on each side and Anders, following from behind, tried to remain vigilant while simultaneously attempting to keep from passing out. In this way, the four of them made their way back to the Keep.

Upon their entrance through the gates, they all seemed to collectively sigh in relief. The Arlessa insisted she could walk on her own now, and truly she did look better, if still pale. She ordered them off to rest for the night, for she was not the only one with injuries. Justice bowed deeply before the Arlessa and took her command. Nathaniel hesitated slightly, but Leonie shot him a stern look, and so, with a grim smile, he too departed, though not before taking her hand and bowing deeply.

"I thank the Maker you are alright, Commander." She smiled and thanked him softly, and he too took his leave.

Anders held back, leaning against the entrance arch for support during the farewells. His vision swam before him briefly and he hoped he wouldn't pass out and fall over. That would just be embarrassing. Finally, his fellow mage turned to him, a tired but sincere smile on her face.

"Thank you again, Anders. I owe you my life." He scoffed.

"And how many times has my life been in your hands, Commander? How many times have you saved my ass from fire or dragons or Templars? Too embarrassing a number to recall. This is nothing compared to the debt I have yet to repay you."

Her smile is soft, pulling at her full lips and making him feel dizzy. Well. Dizzier. "Let us 'ope none need rescuing any time soon… Although…" And here she paused briefly, secretively, before going on. "Being 'eld by you zhat vay vas _not_ such a bad experience. I must confess, zee concern, on your face in particular, was touching to awaken to."

She was babbling a bit, and he could tell she was a little woozy and out of sorts still. But light-headed or not, her words were… If he had the strength he would have reached up and touched her face… Instead, his fingers twitched at his side and he said nothing, though there were many things he could say, floating just out of reach. She tucked her head down and looked away.

"Ah… What I mean to say ees that I am very grateful for such companions. My men are so loyal and caring. It melts my heart…" He felt the jealousy awaken at the mention of others, but then -

"Vhat is the proper etiquette for one of your damsels?" She was teasing him. Oh Andraste… The more serious thoughts dissipated and he felt playful again. This woman…

"Well she's supposed to let me sweep her up into my arms and then ravish me with kisses… and that's just for starters." She grins.

"I think ve are both too tired for such a thing." And with a secretive smile, she stood on her tiptoes, leaned in, and placed a soft kiss on his cheek; her lips lingered. The gentle touch sent a shiver racing up his spine. There was no way she didn't notice. Her face remained close to his for a second, before she backed away and said,

"But I 'ope that will suffice." His heart rate had spiked and Anders knew he was going to remember that brief moment of contact for many nights to come… He cleared his throat before attempting to reply.

"Oh my lady, that more than suffices…" It hitched anyway, and he was sure he'd revealed himself in his tone.

He drops his eyes for a moment, remembering her on the ground, those eyes shut, those lips too pale. His voice came low and full of that left-over fear and sincerity, and he didn't remember telling his brain to say these words, to unleash this fear, but they did anyway. "To be honest, I am just relieved I was able to cure you."

She slowly lifted her hand and his gaze followed it as she brought it to rest softly against his chest. Before he could fathom anything, a Rejuvenate spell coursed through him and he let out a small groan of surprise. The spike in mana restoration made his blood rush and maybe he was delirious but that touch, that close-quarters spell-casting, felt more sensual and intimate than anything he'd ever experienced.

"… As am I." She was so close. Oh Maker, she was so close. Her eyes were half-lidded and she was staring at his chest where her hand rested. Their casual flirting has just edged into something much deeper. He felt no need to prevent it, oddly enough, just the need to get his bearings.

"Anders…" The way she said his name… so much for bearings; he felt as though he's swimming inside of his own head.

"My lady?" Her breath seemed to have quickened. She ran the fingertips of her free hand along the edge of the embroidery on his chest. He thought might explode. But then she raised her eyes to his face and her look became too solemn for the conversation he thought they were about to have.

"…You look so weary. Please. Rest. I insist." He looked down at her; the hand that cast the spell was still on his chest, and he was still leaning back against the wall… oh but for a little more energy and he might… but no. Now was no longer the time.

"Whatever my lady orders will be done. Although I do wish you'd order some dirty things now and again." Back into shallower, safer waters.

For now.

Her solemnity broke into a familiar, teasing smile.

"Anders, I am just barely off my death bed and you are already thinking of another sort of bedding entirely? There ees only one form of bed-rest zhat you need now, and it does not contain any lewd behavior." And she turned slowly and began to walk off, the sway of her rear end hypnotizing him slightly.

He called out to her back, "Just something to keep in mind, dear lady."

His reward was her brief reply, not missing a step: "Consider it noted."

Anders thought he'd rest here a moment longer before gathering himself together and dragging himself to bed. Today had been interesting. Wearisome and frightening, but not _all_ bad.

Thanks for reading!


	6. Because Hesitation is for the Foolish

A/N: This has been a while in coming. To my small but kind audience, thank you for your patience. And thank you to Junipper for their kind review. I know it was back in September, but it moved me, and it kicked my butt back in gear about this story. I opened up the next chapter that very day and wrote. And then the most terrible thing happened;_ I saved over everything I had written. _Distraught, angry with myself, and struck with a great lack of motivation, I left it. But that is terrible, and I shouldn't have.

If there is only one thing to be learned from me as a writer, it is certainly that inspiration is a fickle, untamable beast. Do not depend on inspiration and motivation to write, my friends. Depend on self-discipline. If you force yourself to write, the inspiration will come. Not always immediately. But it will come.

Anyway, enough philosophy; here is the next chapter of _Because. _I expect two (maaaybe 3) more after this - a final chapter and an epilogue.

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><p><strong>Because Hesitation is for the Foolish<strong>

_**On Admissions**_

It took a little while, but he found her. She stood in the corridor, staring at a large portrait hanging on the wall. This was it. He couldn't do this any longer. He'd spent the last full day recovering – they all had. And the entire time, she danced through his mind like flame. And after their – her – close call, he knew that saying something was far less dangerous than not. Better a broken heart from knowing than one from never finding out.

So he stepped towards her.

"I'm glad to see you are feeling better, Commander." She turned from the painting and smiled at him. It was warm and soft, if not still a bit tired around the eyes.

"Anders. It is good to see you better as well." He stood there, taking her in. Apparently it was a few moments too long, because she added, "Is zhere something I can do for you?"

He'd been steeling himself for this.

"Have I ever told you," he took slow, purposeful steps toward her, "that you are alarmingly beautiful?" The hallway of the keep was dim save for the light of a few torches. Usually he found it inconvenient, but for this moment the ambiance couldn't have set a better tone for his intentions.

She turned to face him fully now, her expression sly. "You may 'ave mentioned it – once or twice. Not zee word "alarmingly" specifically, but something of zhat nature, yes."

"Well! Glad to know you were paying attention." Now. Time to turn on the charm full-blast.

"Speaking of which, what would you say if I told you someone in your little entourage has become quite taken with you, my lady?"

Her arms folded across her chest and she pursed her lips, one hand lifting to tap a long finger against her cheek. "I believe my reaction would depend upon which of our companions we are talking about. For example, if it were Oghren I would 'ave to ask whether or not 'e vas drunk. So you see I am afraid you 'ave to be more specific… Anders."

Her gaze pierced into his, and the way she said his name made his blood race. He was no novice at reading expressions, especially on women, and he would bet a large sum that the Commander's look held no small measure of interest – he knew her heart must hold at least a little. So he would play this game with her if that's what she wanted. It was something he _knew_ he was good at. His eyes drifted behind her briefly at the large portrait of Elias Howe and he was struck with an idea. Shrugging his shoulders with an air of defeat, he sighed.

"Touché, my dear woman. All right. You win. If you're going to make me come out and say it I guess there's no helping it." His tone was serious and he took a step closer to her; perhaps in surprise at his forwardness, she took a small step back, putting her almost flat against the wall. Resting his hand on the stone above her, he said,

"Nathaniel Howe has taken a great liking to you."

She seemed to be trying to contain both her shock and her laughter, but she managed to choke out, "Has he now?" in a moderately dignified tone. Suffice to say it was clearly not what she'd been expecting.

_Perfect_.

His voice an octave lower, he continued; "Oh yes. He's head over heels. He thinks about you all the time… daydreams about kissing along your collarbone..." His gaze traced idly over said collarbone, tragically covered by her garments.

Leonie maintained an enviable air of tranquility as she evenly replied, "He is a very noble gentleman. It is flattering that 'e regards me vith such esteem."

Anders ducked his head closer to hers and continued, quite earnestly; "Oh he regards you all right. He only wishes he could spend more time alone with you. Maybe go somewhere… together."

She gazed up through her eyelashes at him: "Alone?" He'd been hoping for a note of surprise, but her voice held strong and rich, and if it were laced with anything, he'd have to categorize it as excitement. But that worked just as well.

"Well yes. While he finds the presence of our other companions agreeable enough, he would very much like a little more one-on-one time with his favorite Orlesian Commander."

A smile tugged at the corners of her full lips; he knew she had one hell of a coy side to her. "So vhere does Nathaniel desire to take me?"

_Well_. He could spar with coy.

In a very matter-of-fact tone, he said simply, "He desires to take you against the wall, I believe."

"Anders!" Her cheeks colored slightly at his explicit implications. He smirked and continued.

"And perhaps on top of a dresser. And in the storage room. Just for starters." And this woman of will did not flinch, but merely smiled. Reaching out her right hand, she ran that long, graceful index finger of hers down the stitching on the chest of his robes. "Nathaniel is more of a pervert zhan I thought him to be."

Her mostly-innocent touch sent a shiver down his spine that he didn't bother concealing. "Mm. Yes, well, you can hardly blame him, can you? You are an extraordinary woman."

"Oh he finds me _extraordinary _now, does he?" Her tone held amusement in it, but here was the crucial part - where he had to convince her that he wasn't joking. And that it wasn't just about taking her, so to speak, but about giving to her – all that he had.

Catching the hand that traced his robes, he replied evenly: "My lady, you are unquestionably the most extraordinary person I have ever known."

She turned her gaze up to his face, asking an unspoken question, and he did nothing but stare back openly, answering any and _all_ questions by allowing his heart to pour into his eyes - reveling in the breach of his third-person form of confession. Hours seemed to pass in the span of a moment before Anders finally turned his gaze back down to her hand. Lifting it to his face, he returned his eyes to hers and held her stare as he placed a slow, solid kiss on the inside of her wrist.

"Mostly though, he wants to take you to… the Crown and Lion perhaps? After a hard day of battling the darkspawn he thought it would be nice to relax and just have a drink with you. Perhaps get dinner, sit and talk and laugh…" She swallowed thickly. The crackling of the torches and the sound of her chest, rising and falling, were the only sounds in the dim hallway.

"Is Nathaniel asking what I think 'e is asking?" Her voice was softer than before and where once there had been joviality in her tone, a soft astonishment lilted instead.

He'd kept her hand near his face and now he held her palm against his cheek and leaned into it, eyes locked with hers. "He hopes you'll say yes."

Her fingers skimmed across his hairline and she smiled so serenely. "I cannot think of anything better after a day of darkspawn-massacring zhan a drink vith Nathaniel."

He closed his eyes in triumph, heart leaping in his chest. Reveling in the touch of her fingertips, he sighed audibly and happily. And then, opening his eyes, he met her gaze and grinned. "Except being taken against the wall, right?"

"Anders!" She withdrew her hand in shock, and her fingers alit on the blush of her own cheeks.

He chuckled and backed away, removing his hand from the wall above her. "Apologies, apologies."

He was pretty sure she'd been expecting him to kiss her, but he wouldn't. Not just yet. He had greater plans for that.

"So perhaps tomorrow… once the darkspawn-slaying quota has been met for the day…"

She leaned forward off of the wall stood upright.

"I believe my plans include going to a local tavern."

"My dear, alone?"

"Vell, I vould not mind some company, Anders." Now she stepped forward, and walked two fingers up the center line of his robes.

"But until then, I do believe I need my rest. So zhis is farewell… for now."

In one fluid movement she stood on her tip toes and, placing the barest tips of her fingers on his face, kissed him gently on the cheek once more. But it was more intimate than the day before, and her full lips pressed more sensuously into the flesh of his cheekbone.

He had the greatest urge to turn into it – to make it a full-blown kiss, but he held back. That could wait for another time. She pulled away and smiled at him mysteriously, saying, "Pass zhat on to Nathanial for me, will you?" and then she turned and walked down the dim corridor.

Among the many great joys that filtered through his mind, the stray one that struck him was how irate the Howe would be if he knew how Anders had seduced their Commander just now.

He almost went and told him.

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><p>AN: Well, if I've not made it clear yet, reviews are incredibly important. They motivate, provide inspiration, and help to make the writer better at the craft they profess to love and attempt. So leave one!

P.S. How AMAZING is Dragon Age: Inquisition?! Holy hell I have funneled an embarrassing amount of my limited time on Earth into playing that game.


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